


This Is Our Epilogue, My Love

by KassandraScarlett



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Death, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester in Love, Gen, M/M, Quote: Sam and Dean Winchester are psychotically irrationally erotically codependent on each other, Season/Series 15 Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22386400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KassandraScarlett/pseuds/KassandraScarlett
Summary: There's only one way this was ever going to end. One brother kills the other. It just doesn't happen the way anyone would have expected.
Relationships: Amara & Dean Winchester, Chuck Shurley & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Michael & Adam Milligan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 113





	This Is Our Epilogue, My Love

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before 15x09 The Trap, so for the sake of this story, Sam and Chuck are still connected through the Equalizer wound.

Amara made the wooden chair at their table look like a throne. 

Dean felt odd being in her presence again. He could still sense the weird connection between them, the one that had lay dormant for years now, but it was muted, not the overwhelming urge to be closer to her than physically possible. Maybe it was because she no longer wore that otherworldly black number. Instead, she was dressed like a normal human; high-waisted jeans, colorful shirt, yellow jacket, and sunglasses to top it off. She looked... Human. It made it easier to look at her, especially considering the other option Dean had to think about, and he didn't _want_ to think about _that_. 

Also, she hadn't spoken a word for almost five minutes. 

"Hey, uh, Amara?" He cleared his throat. "I know this is a lot, but, uh, time's wasting."

She leveled him with a glare. "Why I'm so fond of you, I no longer understand," she muttered, rubbing a hand over where they all knew the Mark was, with a disgruntled expression. 

"So," Sam started hesitantly. "Are you okay with this? Are you gonna help us?"

She sighed. "Yes. I mean, don't mistaken me, God is still my brother and as infuriating as I find him, I... I do love him. Perhaps more than I should, given how I've turned a blind eye to his doings for so long." Her voice trailed off, eyes distant and sad, and Dean could relate to that; loving someone more than you should sucked ass. 

Amara blinked herself out of her reminiscence. "But, you are right. He's gone too far. And trapping him will be much more trickier, requiring power that I alone can't provide, since we are equal. One Archangel is not enough, not when he'll be expecting us to pull the same trick you did with me." She tilted her head in Adam's direction. "No offense, nephew."

"He says, ' _none taken, auntie_ '," Adam replied. 

So there was no love lost between Michael and Amara. 

"And in any case, I would not subject anyone, not even him, to the sort of loneliness I had to experience. This is the only way to stop him."

"So, we all know the plan? Amara, you're sure we're warded?"

She frowned delicately. "Of course."

"Right" Sam nodded. "Okay, so, one: Adam and I sneak in so Chuck doesn't sense Michael immediately, and I free Cas."

"Two: Michael takes over and zaps Cas outta there," Adam continues. "Then he comes back without me."

"Then we move in." Dean nods to Amara. 

"Then you..." Sam hesitated, trying to meet Dean's eyes and failing. He changes his words. "Then we weaken Chuck."

"Michael and I take advantage and distract him," Amara said. 

Dean swallowed. "And I end it."

A short silence prevailed. 

Amara then held out a hand, a blade materializing in her hand. "I can't create anything that would hurt him directly," she said apologetically. "It has to be through Sam."

Dean shook his head, trying not to think about his upcoming task. "Anyway, I'll summon Billie," he said, clearing his throat. "Sam, you get Rowena on the phone."

* * *

At the end of the night, it was just the two of them, leaning against the table, standing instead of sitting in favour of keeping in physical contact, however sparse. 

"You know what you gotta do tomorrow, right?" Sam asked, voice soft in the surrounding silence. Everyone else had taken off for a night of peace and rest before the next day. 

Dean drained his glass, poured out another fifth. "I don't like it." That was an understatement. 

Sam shifted infinitesimally closer. "I know," he murmured. "But, Dean, you gotta promise. You'll do it. And when it's done, you can't hesitate. Chuck will be expecting witches and demons, we can't go that road. Heaven refuses to interfere. There's only so much Michael and Amara can do."

"Why does it have to be me?" Dean asked. His voice broke and even as he said it, he knew it was better than letting someone else put a hand on his brother. Still, he wanted to fight it.

"Because, it's the Darkness blade, Dean," Sam explained. "Because it only works as weapon, not a tool."

"But, we're playing into what Chuck wants," Dean argued. 

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "But there's no demon blood, no Mark, no Lucifer. It's just us. And if it's just us..." He gave a small smile, dimples peeking out shyly. "Then I'd rather it end at your hands than anyone else's."

Dean turned to look at him then. Sam had leaned in while talking and it was hypnotic to stare at his eyes from this distance. 

"Come here," he gasped, choking on his words. "Come here, just..." He abandoned the glass on the table and pulled Sam into a hug. "Come here."

Sam melted into him, putting his whole body into the hug. He let Dean put both arms over him, let him be the protector, and Dean didn't think it was possible to love Sam any more than he already did, always had done, but in this moment, every beat of his heart hurt with how much he needed this beautiful man, every breath burned in his chest when he thought about spending even a few minutes on earth without him. 

He pulled away just enough to press his forehead to Sam. Sam kept his eyes closed, but Dean kept looking, greedily drinking in the crinkles around his eyes, the kindness ingrained into the set of his mouth, the gentle strength of the hands that were cupping his hips. 

"Sammy," he whispered and the sparse air between them tingled with the secret they'd spent decades denying existed. "Sammy, I love you."

Sam's eyes opened then, kaleidoscopic hazel staring into green, as Dean's words sent a shiver through his body. 

"You know that, right?" Dean asked. "You know that. I love you."

Sam was nodding, as much as he could with Dean cradling his face, before he finished speaking. "I know. I know that. De. I love you too."

"There's only one way this ends tomorrow," Dean said, hushed, like saying it loudly would make it more definite. "So promise me: when we take the train upstairs, we stop ignoring this."

"Yeah," Sam breathed out against his lips. "Yeah, I think we've earned that. We deserve it. Otherwise it wouldn't be heaven."

Dean nodded in agreement.

They should go to bed, should rest before morning came. 

But if they spent a few more minutes like that, sharing heat and breath and love, inches away from giving in to the call of each other's lips and bodies, nobody was going to begrudge them that.

* * *

"Come on, Dean," Chuck laughed, as Dean stood next to Sam, sliding the Darkness blade out. "You don't really think that's gonna do anything to me."

"It's not for you," Dean said, with a smirk he didn't feel. 

Chuck suddenly focused on the blade, as if realizing it wasn't a regular knife. "Wait, what is that? What are you doing?"

"We're giving you your favorite ending," Sam replied, fragile hope in his words. 

Dean turned to face him, bringing the knife up. For a split second, as Chuck snapped his fingers to melt the blade, Dean was grateful for Amara's warding that protected them from him, because he was hesitating. Dean couldn't do this, it would ruin him, he couldn't-

Sam wrapped long fingers around his free hand, smiling tightly with tears in his eyes and Dean plunged the blade into Sam's shoulder, feeling the pain as if it were his own. 

Two people screamed and Dean could only focus on his brother. Sam fell to the ground and Dean fell with him, cradling his head before it hit the ground. 

His body convulsed, Darkness leaching from the blade into the wound. Dean's heart pounded, along with the pulsing of a hundred billion souls, as he tucked Sam to his chest, rocking him slowly as life left him. 

Distantly, he was aware of Grace swirling in the air, attacking Chuck with all the anger Michael possessed. He could feel Amara's primordial aura covering the area, blanketing them in unnatural night. He could hear Chuck yell for Amara, cries of, " _Sister, why? Amara, don't do this, stop!_ " as he fought back, and he could hear Amara's heartfelt apology, " _Forgive me, brother, there was no other way_."

But through it all, Dean held on to Sam, trying in vain to hear him breathing, to feel his pulse, _something_. But the hazel eyes were blank and full of cold stars and even in this final death, his lips were curved into the smallest of smiles. A smile that shattered Dean's already broken heart into smaller pieces. 

Then Amara's voice intruded into his head. _Dean, do it now. Michael is growing weaker, but so is God. Do it now!_

The words served to remind of his mission. Dean squeezed Sam's body one more time, carding a hand through his hair. "I'll see you soon," he promised. 

The, he stood, looking up. Beyond the Darkness, he was sure the sun was dying, fading away with Chuck's own life. Amara would finish him off soon. It was time to restore the balance. 

Dean brought his hand up, trying to hold on to the prospect of _Sam_ , trying to summon the last vestiges of humor. "Yippe-kay-yay, mother-" The sound of the snap was lost in the _brightburningcoldfirehotice_ power that filled the air.

* * *

Dean woke up at the table in the Bunker. Wait, that couldn't be right. He frowned. Had he been drinking...? 

"Dean?" 

He turned around. Sam was standing in the doorway from the kitchen, staring at him like they hadn't seen each other in days. 

"Sam?" He got to his feet, trying to clear the fog in his head. "What's wrong?"

"What do you remember?" Sam asked, cautiously stepping closer. 

Dean frowned. "We... We were going to meet Amara and..." Images flashed through his mind. Hugging Sam, stabbing him, holding his dead body. Dean stumbled. "Oh, go- fuck!"

Sam's hand was on his shoulder. "Hey, it's okay," he soothed.

"You were dead," Dean said numbly. Except he wasn't. Or he was, but so was Dean. 

"I'm here," Sam said and it sounded like a promise. "Dean, we're both here. We did it. You did it."

Dean didn't hear any of it, not really. He just looked up at Sam, beautiful and sweet and free of the burden he'd carried for more than half his life, and a smile began to form as he realized what this meant. "It's over," he said. 

Sam nodded. He actually grinned in response and Dean's hands moved of their own accord to cup his face, thumbs pressing into the dimples. 

"Does this mean...?" He stopped, took a deep breath. 

Sam waited. 

"Sam, can we have this?" He asked. "You did promise, but... Are you sure we can have this? What if something goes wrong? _Should_ we have this?"

Sam swallowed, leaning closer. "We can," he swore. "If something happens, we'll deal with it. Hell, with our luck, something probably will happen, even up here. And deserving or not, I don't care."

Dean nodded. He couldn't find words, but he agreed. They'd done enough. Nobody could take this away from them. And just to prove it to himself, just to clarify, he leaned up, slow and unsure, stopping halfway to Sam's lips. 

Sam closed the distance.

And Dean could finally believe he was in heaven. 

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr: kassyscarlett


End file.
